


Migraine

by yoomsthefool



Series: oh my godd they were roommates,,, [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Emetophobia, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, almost forgot the fluff tag, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoomsthefool/pseuds/yoomsthefool
Summary: Being Ouma Kokichi's boyfriend really causes its fair share of headaches.





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> Thought of this while I had a migraine lol This is my first DRV3 fic and as expected, Kokichi's really hard to write (and this isn't even in his POV), but I hope you enjoy!

University, Momota has to conclude, wasn’t exactly fun.

He was excited upon graduating high school. Momota had been accepted into an amazing university with a double major in engineering and biology, and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy but he looked forward to the new life ahead of him. Being away from his grandparents sucked, but he made sure to call every weekend (and write every month, as his grandma just enjoyed writing letters) and his new friends certainly helped with the loneliness.

New friends, and with new friends also came new enemies. Not many--Momota liked to think of himself as a guy that’s easy to get along with, and over the years he learned to swallow his pride and apologize when he made mistakes. Thanks to that the number people he knows don’t like him is less than he can list with his fingers, but when he counted (which he never did, really), he often found himself struggling to count the last digit, the one that represented Ouma Kokichi.

Well, Momota isn't exactly a fan of mysteries--that’s Shuuichi’s thing. But he’s a fan of puzzles, and Ouma was certainly the most challenging puzzle he had ever seen. It took him ages for him to admit that he was even interested, too blinded by the arguments and teasing and pranks to bring himself to even  _ think  _ about liking the short little gremlin that was an almost constant annoying presence in his life, but over time, as he nudged pieces into place, sometimes clumsily, sometimes with frustration, sometimes with fondness--

Well, he certainly didn’t expect that one day, he’d welcome Ouma into his life with open arms, and he almost didn’t expect Ouma to return the gesture. 

But he did, and that led to their situation now. Roommates and lovers, both struggling with university but together.

It is pleasant, mostly, now that he can admit that he loves Kokichi. It’s much easier to hold his breath when Kokichi teases him, his comments much less jaded than those he shot at Momota the first hundred or two times they met. He won’t admit it openly, since Kokichi hates it when he gets sappy and Momota also feels like he’d die of embarrassment for stating this truth, but Kokichi made university life a lot more pleasant and less boring than it could be.

Not that university’s easy even with Kokichi, no.

Ugh.

Momota groans as he presses his fingers against his eyes, squinting at the bright screen of his laptop. Papers are scattered across his desk, numbers and equations scribbled over them in messy scripts. He’s muttering to himself, a string of numbers and occasional curses as he just  _ can’t  _ figure out what he’s supposed to do next, when--

“ _ Momota-chaaaaaaaan! _ ”

Momota groans and ignores the cry from the living room, opting to instead scribble some more notes into his disheveled notebook.

“Momota-chan, Momota-chan,  _ Momota-chan!” _

With each repeat of his name Kokichi’s voice bounces closer, and soon his boyfriend burst into the second bedroom that made their shared office. Immediately Kokichi’s bouncing off the walls with energy that Momota can’t even begin to think to match, and he groans again as he rips his eyes off his studying and twirls his chair around, frowning.

Nah, sometimes Kokichi made university real fucking difficult. Especially the studying portion of it, because--

“Jeez, Momota-chan, are you ignoring me?!” Kokichi huffs, pouting.

“Not now, Kokichi. And don’t call me that,” Momota growls.

“Ah, sorry, my beloved Kai-chan!” Kokichi giggles.

Momota doesn’t comment on the nickname, and instead just rolls his eyes and moves to turn back to his desk.

“Wh--Kai-chan!” His name comes out like a long whine, and Momota sighs. 

“ _ What,  _ Kokichi?”

A pause after that, but Momota’s looking away, rubbing the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“I didn’t know you have a paper due soon, Kai-chan,” Ouma murmurs. Momota glances up to him to see him tapping his cheek with a finger, leaning into it with a thoughtful tilt.

“I don’t,” Momota admits. “But I still need to get this done. I have other shit to do besides this.”

“Wow~ Such a hard worker,” Kokichi hums. “But! I’m bored, Kai-chan! You should stop puzzling yourself with those ugly equations and numbers and  _ physics  _ and instead play with me!”

“I said, not now, Kokichi,” Momota repeats, earning another pout. “I’ll play with you after I finish this.”

“But, but--” Tears well up in Kokichi’s wide eyes. “But by then you’ll be a withered old man and I’ll be gone away with the wind, off to find my own life because my beloved won’t pay attention to me over his work, while our kids are wondering where Papa went off to--oh, the tragedy--!”

“Kokichi,” Momota warns, and Kokichi goes silent, which he’s glad for because his boyfriend’s voice is starting to grate on his nerves. Which isn’t fun, because he likes to think he likes his boyfriend’s voice, but right now he just isn’t in the mood for his antics.

“Hm~ Jeez, since Momota-chan is so grumpy, I guess there’s no helping it,” Kokichi says, his tears already dry as he studies his fingernails. “You promised me, though, you’ll play with me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Momota mutters, already turning back to his work. 

“Don’t go back on your promises.”

Kokichi leaves, and Momota engrossed himself with physics once more. The thing about distractions in studying is that they’re supposed to help the brain, right? Something about them making it easier to focus after, or something--Shuuichi had told him that while in a psychology class.

WELP, that isn’t proving itself true right now. Kokichi’s visit had only caused his irritation to grow because he lost track of where he was before, and he tries to take his frustration on the work in front of him, but it’s not helping, the numbers are getting harder to focus on and he’s squinting at them but they’re getting blurry and he rubs the back of his neck angrily as he mutters to himself and snaps his pencil against the paper threatening to break the lead--

Momota looks up, blinking confusedly as a new sound breaks through the storm in his head. Music, and he’s suddenly aware that while it’s from the living room, it’s loud enough for him to hear it clearly from the office. He scowls and glances at the clock, seeing that it’s one in the fucking morning, and--seriously?

He storms into the living room, scowl growing as the music only swells in volume, and is greeted with the sight of Kokichi seated in front of their TV and playing a video game, some puzzle-based one that blasts its chipper tune.

Momota storms up to behind him and gives Kokichi three seconds to react, which he fails to do, so he clears his throat loudly.

Kokichi immediately pauses the game, and the music calms into a lighter melody--but it’s still loud, each note bouncing off of Momota’s skull, and he scowls at his boyfriend’s innocent smile.

“Kai-chan! Did you finish?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he gazes up at his boyfriend. “Are you here to make do on your promise and play with me?”

“Kokichi, it’s one in the morning,” Momota answers, eyes roaming the living room. He finds the remote on the couch and immediately snatches it to mute the TV. “Turn down the fucking volume if you’re going to play. You’ll wake up the neighbors.”

“If I recall, it’s a Friday night and our neighbors are all just other college students. They’re really weird if they were actually asleep right now, don’t you think?” Kokichi asks flatly. “I would say a dumb goody two shoes like you wouldn’t know, but here you are up anyway, Kai-chan.”

Momota rolls his eyes, nostrils flaring as he ignores the bait, with effort. “So, what, you’re up playing video games at one in the morning because it’s  _ not  _ weird?”

“Yep! I’m so glad that you understand me!” Kokichi exclaims, and Momota winces at his volume.

“No, I don’t. I’m just telling you to keep it down. Keep playing, I don’t care--I’m just going to go back--”

“Wait, wait, wait, so you’re  _ not  _ here to play with me, Kai-chan?” Kokichi asks, and there’s the teary facade again. “B-But I was waiting for you so patiently, I even gave you two hours, to think that my darling Kai-chan won’t even spare some time for me…”

Momota closes his eyes and presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose again. “I told you, Kokichi, I’ll play with you after I finish my paper. I wasn’t going to finish it in two fucking hours.”

“But what if you never finish it? What if your dumb brain can’t figure it out, and I’m left here waiting, and waiting, and  _ waiting-- _ ”

“Listen, I’m  _ not  _ fucking dumb despite whatever you try to tell as the truth all the damn time. Just give me a day or so--”

“A day? Or two? So long without you?!”

“--Yes, Kokichi, fuck, can you be patient for once?! I said I’ll play with you after!” He swears under his breath, muttering, “Fuck, this is so stupid.”

“I don’t think I want to play with you anymore,” Kokichi mutters suddenly. “Not when you’re like this.”

He isn’t quite sure what it is about Kokichi’s words that makes hearing them feel equivalent to him just smashing Momota’s head in with a hammer. Perhaps it’s the sudden rejection, or the frustration that seeped into Kokichi’s tone because what,  _ he  _ was frustrated at the moment--?!

Anger, hot and irrational, washes over him, and he inhales sharply before opening his mouth.

“ _ What-- _ ”

Several things happen at once. Momota opens his eyes to glare at Kokichi. The lights of the living room and the glow of the TV greet him instead. They pierce through his eyes and sear into his brain. He gasps instead of continuing his sentence. He tries to take a step back, for some reason. He finds himself stumbling backward until his back slams into the wall. The jolt makes him wheeze. His heart’s pounding. His head, his head, his head  _ hurts. _

“Kai-chan?”

He flinches at Kokichi’s voice, so loud, so  _ loud _ . Nausea bubbles in his stomach at an alarming rate.

“Hey.” Kokichi’s voice is much lower this time, but it still slams past his eardrums and knocks against his brain. He can't see. “Hey, it’s okay--”

No, it’s not, and Momota’s already bolting from the living room to the master bedroom, their bedroom, and to the bathroom. His knees slam to the ground in front of the toilet as he hunches over the bowl, retching. Only bile comes out, burning his throat and causing tears to spring in his eyes but he can’t care about that, when his head’s pounding, his head hurts, it fucking  _ hurts-- _

Each rapid beat of his heart brings another throb of pain through his skull, and he shudders as another wave of nausea washes over him. He dry heaves a couple times, but there’s nothing left in his stomach. There wasn’t anything to begin with, he realizes faintly. He last ate at six, it takes the stomach four to five hours to empty, so-- _ fuck _ , basic fucking math hurts too--

He groans and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against his forearm as he shudders. A long minute or two passes, he can’t tell, but his ragged breathing slows out eventually into a somewhat steady rhythm.

Momota’s head is still throbbing, though, and he flinches at the soft sound behind him. He doesn’t look back and feels a small hand place itself on his back, rubbing it gently in small, slow circles.

“Here,” Kokichi’s voice murmurs, low and barely even a whisper. Momota blearily opens his eyes to soft darkness--he hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights on his trip here, after all--and makes out the faint shape of a glass of water.

Momota drags himself away from the toilet bowl, settling into a sitting position before accepting the cup from Kokichi. He takes the first sip hesitantly, and grimaces as it threatens to bring in yet another wave of nausea. He moves to put it down.

“Finish at least half of it,” Kokichi says, his voice still low. Gentle hands wrap around his, holding the cup in place. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just take small sips. I’ll be right back.”

Kokichi steps away, and Momota lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Obediently, he sips at the water, and eventually the nausea dies down to just an unpleasant lingering sensation in his stomach. He keeps his eyes pinched shut, willing his head to stop fucking hurting, but it doesn’t listen and he curls in on himself.

Quiet footsteps announce Kokichi’s return, and he feels something hard and rounded gently nudge his forearm. Momota looks up to blink blankly at what’s presented in front of him. At first it just looks like a bunch of shapes, but he eventually makes out a picture in the dimness: a plate with two stacked slices of bread on it, cut diagonally to make equal triangles. 

The last thing on Momota’s mind is food, and he frowns at the plate. 

“I know, but you have to eat before taking any medication, remember?” Kokichi reminds him gently. “We don’t want you to get a stomachache.”

Momota reluctantly takes a triangle, bringing it to his lips and taking a miniscule bite. The bread feels like a sponge in his mouth, and he takes a sip of water to wash it down. That helps, and he finishes the cup along with half the piece of bread. Kokichi refills the cup with the sink and watches him silently.

It takes a stupidly long time for Momota to finish the rest of the single piece of bread, and by the end of it his stomach’s practically churning and he’s afraid that he’s going to throw up again. He breathes in and out, trying to quell the nausea, and blinks when Ouma’s hand stretches out towards him. Two large pills sit in his palm, the ones that Momota’s doctors prescribed for his migraines. For moments like these.

He takes the pills and swallows them down with a couple gulps of water.

Another silent moment passes between them. The medication of course hasn’t kicked in yet, but his breathing’s evened out once more, and Kokichi gently takes his arms and pry them away from his knees.

“Come on, Kai-chan. Let’s get you to bed.”

He doesn’t argue nor struggle, just allows Kokichi to pull him up and practically drag him back to the bedroom. Momota sits at the edge of the bed, sighing as he rests his elbows on his knees and presses his forehead against his palms.

“Just keep breathing,” Kokichi’s voice hums somewhere behind him. He hears the faint sounds of a drawer slowly opening and closing. Some more noises, something slippery. “Stay still, okay? And tell me if you want me to stop.”

Momota opens his mouth to ask just what Kokichi’s planning to do, but warm fingers, slick with oil, press against his neck, and a small sigh escapes his lips instead. He closes his eyes as Kokichi runs his thumbs along the muscle fibers of his nape, rubbing the tension out of them.

“So tight,” Kokichi mutters. Then, probably because he just couldn’t resist, “Now that’s usually a good thing to hear in bed, but not right now, huh?”

Momota lets out a small huff at that. Kokichi hums again, moving lower, his hands slipping past the collar of Momota’s t-shirt to reach at his shoulders. 

“Your shirt’s going to get oily,” Kokichi comments idly, and Momota shrugs. He doesn’t care.

Kokichi smooths his hands over Momota’s shoulders, rock hard underneath his touch, and works to massage out some of the many knots in his boyfriend’s back and neck. Momota’s back and neck are probably made out of more muscle than all of Kokichi combined, though, so after a few long moments he hears Kokichi sigh tiredly behind him, his fingers stilling.

“That’s alright,” Momota murmurs. His voice is still hoarse from vomiting before, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since their argument in the living room, but he swallows and continues. “I’m… I’m feeling a lot better now.”

Kokichi’s hands slide up back to the back of Momota’s neck, lingering. “That’s not a lie?”

Momota nods slowly. The small movement causes dull pangs of pain to pass through his head, but it’s only a fraction of that as before, and he sighs as he slowly turns back to look at Kokichi. His boyfriend stares back at him with those large eyes, shimmering in the faint glow of the star-shaped nightlights that adorn their ceiling, and Momota smiles gently.

“No, it’s not. Thanks.”

He can’t help it as he pulls Kokichi into a hug. His boyfriend makes a soft noise at that, but he doesn’t resist as he wraps his arms around Momota. They stay in a semi-comfortable silence for a long moment, but eventually Momota sighs again.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and he blinks as he realizes that Kokichi had just mirrored him in the statement. 

They pull apart from each other a little to stare, confused.

“What are you apologizing for?” Momota starts after a faint pause.

Kokichi’s lips purse into a thin line. “No, you first.”

Stubborn. Momota breathes out and nods. “I. I should’ve seen that coming, really. My head started to hurt a few hours ago and I just ignored it, and then I lashed out at you instead of resting or something. I'm sorry for that.”

Kokichi nods slowly, then looks down. “I didn’t help, though,” he mutters. “I only aggravated it.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Momota replies. Kokichi looks back up at him with wide eyes.

“Hmmmm?” Kokichi hums, pressing his finger against his cheek quizzically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Momota-chan. You know I make it a daily mission to get on your nerves, despite the fact that you get nasty, icky headaches so bad that you vomit like a freshman at her first sorority party.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Momota says with a small roll of his eyes. Kokichi’s expression blanks. “But you were trying to help out, right? You just implied that.”

“Did not.”

“Did too,” Momota says, voice firm enough to tell that he’s still definitely not in the mood for banter. “You were trying to get me to take a break. I was just being an ass and thought you were trying to annoy me.”

“I should’ve realized you didn’t eat anything,” Kokichi mutters suddenly, hands bunching against the fabric of Momota’s shirt. “Or even a drink. Even that would’ve helped. And I didn’t even consider that the TV would be too bright or loud--I didn’t even have it on half volume, I should’ve  _ noticed-- _ ”

“I didn’t notice either, Kokichi. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s not your job to take care of me like that.”

A pause.

“Jeez, I wouldn’t know about that, M--Kai-chan! I mean, even as a lie, I think anyone would have liked to hear that they managed to pull off a convincing nurse and boyfriend!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, sorry,” Momota murmurs, ruffling Kokichi’s hair affectionately. “I just mean, it’s my responsibility as much as yours to prevent things from spilling over like this. And I should know myself more than you. I should’ve seen the signs coming, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know you were in control of how bad your head can hurt,” Kokichi murmurs matter-of-factly. “That’d save us a lot of headaches.”

“Yeah, literally,” Momota agrees with a small laugh.

Kokichi hums again before pulling entirely away from the hug, reaching over to their nightstand to offer the plate of bread. Momota doesn’t remember Kokichi bringing it back from the bathroom, and he raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“Eat another slice and then we’ll sleep?” Kokichi offers.

“Plain bread, though, really?”

“Good to know your appetite is back, you glutton,” Kokichi teases. “I’ll get some honey, okay?”

“It’s okay,” Momota answers, taking a piece of bread before Kokichi can leap away. “If it’s alright, I’d like you to stay here with me.”

Kokichi doesn’t reply at first, and then he huffs and dramatically collapses onto the bed, rolling over and curling up on his side, back facing Momota. “Okay~! Only because you’re soooo pitiful right now, Momota-chan, I’ll let you want dumb, boring stuff!”

Momota chuckles through a mouthful of bread. He finishes it down with the rest of the water that Kokichi had mysteriously brought back to the bedroom and lies down besides him, wrapping his arms around his curled form. Kokichi complains halfheartedly as he adjusts himself easily into Momota’s embrace.

They fall into a comfortable silence after Momota pulls the covers over them, breathing slow and steady. Momota doesn’t fall asleep instantly, though, and he can tell through the tension along Kokichi’s neck that he’s not alone.

“I love you, you know that, right, Kokichi?” Momota murmurs quietly into Kokichi’s hair. “You’re worth all the headaches.”

Kokichi stiffens in his embrace, before he turns around to face Momota, nose wrinkled in disfavor. “You’re sooo sappy sometimes, Kai-chan. You ever consider that you cause me headaches too, huh? Huuuh?”

Momota resists the urge to roll his eyes, settling to smile and press a kiss against Kokichi’s forehead instead, earning a small squeak. “Yeah, love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Again, this is my first DRV3 fic. I love Oumota and read almost all the fics in this tag, so I can try to contribute a little, right? Kudos & comments are greatly appreciated :D


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